When the Lotus Blooms Red Rain Falls
by 94 Bottles Of Snapple
Summary: How Solf J. Kimblee became Solf J. Kimblee; the blooming of the red lotus. She asked him to write a symphony, and he did.    No abuse in any form. KimbleexOC if you squint.
1. When the Lotus Blooms

**A/N: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, just my own twisted theories on stuff that isn't covered in canon. **

**I've read some other fics on this topic and have never agreed with any of them, so... Here's my shot. I've decided to add on a second chapter.**

**Also, I have taken the liberty of spelling it _Solf _J. Kimblee (because there are eight million different ways to spell it), even though I normally prefer to stick with '_Zolf_'. It seemed to fit better in this, so I apologize for my inconsistency between the spelling in this story and my other FMA story.**

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* * *

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**When the Lotus Blooms**

There was no break in the path of destruction. No single event to mar the blossoming of the Red Lotus. To surmise that somewhere along the way, or even from the very beginning, there was something that ultimately changed an otherwise normal young boy into a heretic of ruin…

It is an altogether false notion. A mockery of logic.

Because Solf J. Kimblee was never normal.

* * *

The young, dark-haired boy scowled, folding his arms across his chest.

There was nothing to do.

He was a child blessed with precociousness unrivalled in anyone from his small town and a ravenous need to learn. Unfortunately, however, he was not also gifted with a way to use such talents. He lived in an Eastern farming community full of foolish people with no desire for the knowledge of what was beyond the borders of their ramshackle little town. His parents were no geniuses, either. The boy's mother was a seamstress of Xing heritage, and his father was a shopkeeper who worked the town's convenience store.

It was easy to see that Solf looked most like his mother. They shared the same shade of black hair, though, like every other boy in the town, Solf kept his cropped fairly short. Unlike his mother, however, Solf had sharp, intelligent amber eyes.

These eyes were not from his father either, who was cursed with an incredibly average brown hair and blue eyes. Solf did share his father's build, though, and it could be seen even at the early age of six. Sharp jaw and nose, and an altogether defined build that he would hopefully grow into.

Solf knew that his eyes were something that made his parents, shamefully dull people by his standards, cringe. Not just their color, but the alertness in them; an intelligence children do not normally have. They were quite thankful whenever he expressed a desire to wander off and amuse himself away from their watchful gazes, which was quite often indeed. Being an altogether mature child, Solf felt no need to fear for anything in his harmless hometown, nor the need to associate with anyone living there.

It was people from out of town he was interested in, though the times were few and far between that they would pass through. Ironically, it was just as the six-year-old was lamenting this that a horse-drawn cart appeared on the horizon.

Immediately, he was alert. It was early afternoon, and most of the villagers, who would normally have mobbed the poor cart with their childish and annoying interest, were working in the fields or at their respective works. Therefore, it was Solf alone who approached the cart at a slow, cautious pace.

At the front of the cart was a woman—indeed, a woman!—who held in her strong hands the reigns of the horse plodding along and pulling the cart. When she saw him approach, she slowed the horse and studied him.

Solf took this moment to study her as well. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and its orange hue glowed like fire under the rays of the sun. Her eyes were a plain-looking hazel. However, the sharp wisdom in them made him almost feel as if they were the same golden color of his own eyes. At once, the young boy was both in awe of this beautiful creature, and feeling a deep sense of warm camaraderie with her. Especially when she met his amber eyes with that knowing look.

"Hello."

He blinked for a few seconds, but at last processed her greeting.

"H-hello."

And then she laughed. As she spurred on her horse, angling the cart out of his way, she nodded to him.

"I'll remember you."

* * *

At the time, He wasn't exactly sure what to make of such a statement. He feared that perhaps this meant that she would not be staying at all. However, his fears were unfounded, because he heard his parents speaking of her that evening at dinner, and how she had purchased a room for rent in Mr. Hewitt's large house further into town.

This left Solf both relieved and unhappy. He didn't like that she would be known by other people, this almost spectral woman who had promised to remember him. All the same, at least she had not left altogether, and if this was the price to pay for her to stay, so be it.

He did not see her around for almost a week, though he wandered through town each day in an attempt. However, he was able to glean bits of information off of adult conversations. His peers always felt a little uncomfortable around him, after he had watched a spider devour some small bug in cold blood without even a shiver.

Solf didn't really understand how that was weird. After all, stuff like that happened all the time. People ate meat, didn't they? It was part of nature, a natural cycle. He was sure some bird would come swoop up the spider, anyhow. Solf just didn't get his peers at all.

In any case, he was able to learn that the redheaded woman was an alchemist, and, according to the gossip, was wandering the countryside to find an apprentice.

"I'll remember you."

Those words rang in Solf's mind, and he hoped fervently that that was a good sign that he would perhaps be a candidate for her teachings. No one in the entire town knew anything about the workings of alchemy, and it had always been something Solf was immensely fascinated with.

And so he waited and waited.

* * *

The next time he saw her was quite unexpected. He was returning home after his daily wandering in town, only to find that she was actually at his own home, speaking with his parents.

"I-I'm afraid, Miss Orion, that our son is a bit… Unnatural. I'm not sure it would be the best idea to-"

That was his mother. Solf's gold eyes narrowed. She had better not-

A warm, bright laugh. Altogether unlike the sharp bark he had been witness to when he first met her, but surely the same voice.

"Now, now, Mrs. Kimblee, it really isn't very nice to say such things about your own child. Some might consider it downright rude. I'd like to speak with him myself, if I can. I can determine then if he is the sort of apprentice I'm looking for."

It was then that Solf pushed open the sitting room door fully and entered. When Miss Orion's gaze fell on him, it was innocent and warm, but as he watched, a flash of that sharp wit passed across her eyes.

"Ah, and here he is now… Hello there."

Solf took a few more steps forward into the room, to see that Miss Orion was holding a tea cup delicately between her elegant peach fingers.

"Hello."

Miss Orion set down her cup, and turned to Solf's mother.

"Is there somewhere I can talk with him?" she asked pleasantly. "One-on-one?"

Silently, Solf's mother gestured out the window to a secluded gazebo in the rear of their property. Miss Orion gave another sweet smile and thanked her. Then she grabbed Solf's hand, which was alarmingly, he felt, small in her own, and led him out to the gazebo to talk.

"It's very nice to meet you, Solf. My name is Diana Orion," she said as soon as the two of them were settled.

Solf stayed silent.

"I would like to teach you alchemy… Because I can see that it's there…"

"What's there?" the boy asked at last, somewhat indignant.

Diana laughed; the sharp one from when they had first met.

"Kid… You're just like me. Maybe you don't think so now, but you'll see it in time. Plus you've got talent, I can see it… And a mind that needs direction, before you lose yourself. We can talk more about that later, though. Tell me about yourself. What you know, what you've learned," Diana ordered.

So Solf spoke of all he knew, and all he'd thought, and things he'd seen, and words he'd heard. And she took it all in with a calm eagerness that gave him a warm feeling in his chest. At last, he finished, and Diana nodded, pondering it all.

"I see…" she murmured at last. "Yes, that's exactly what I hoped to hear."

Then, returning the warm, tender, innocent look to her face, she grabbed Solf's hand gently and they returned to the house. Solf was sent up to bed as Diana and his mother continued to speak in the sitting room.

* * *

"So…?" Mrs. Kimblee started, biting her lower lip.

Diana smiled gently.

"I've spoken with your son, Mrs. Kimblee, and I have determined a fair number of things. First of all, your son is quite gifted, intellectually. Please don't let this genius push you away from him; it is not something too incredibly unusual. However, it means that a rural community is not the best environment for him. There is no room here for him to grow intellectually."

She paused for a moment to think on her next words, and let Solf's mother take in the information she had been provided.

"Secondly, as to his uncanny amount of knowledge already… It appears your son has what is known as a photographic memory. The term simply means that he is easily able to recall everything he has seen or heard or read before. This also is not an uncommon talent, but it will prove incredibly useful to him in almost any trade he should take up. I believe he has the talent… The aptitude, if you will, to learn alchemy from me. Please consider all that I have said tonight, and inform me of your family's decision as soon as you can."

With those words, Diana smiled and swept from the Kimblee home.

* * *

There was something Mrs. Kimblee didn't like about Diana Orion. However… She had adequately explained Solf's oddities, and for that, the ebon-haired woman was grateful. She discussed everything Diana had spoken of with her husband, and the two of them ultimately decided to leave the decision in their gifted son's hands.

Just thinking the word made the two of them glow with pride. So he wasn't strange, just better. And that was a certain relief.

Solf didn't even need to think on his answer.

Yes. Yes! A thousand times yes!

His amber eyes practically glowed with excitement at the opportunity before him.

* * *

The first day of training, Diana instructed, would take place in an open meadow. This was so no crops would be harmed by transmutations, she explained. Dirt was one of the first and most basic substances to use for transmutations, as it was literally everywhere. However, transmuting the soil could uproot crops, and no one wanted that.

Excited, Solf barely slept the night before, and showed up at least an hour early to the meadow. Despite this, Diana was not long behind him. She showed up just as he was studying a small mouse bleeding out on the grass. It was obvious that the boy had not done anything to torment the tiny creature; however, he was merely observing its death in a calm and analytical manner. Diana smiled.

"You know, kid, if you want to survive in this world, you'll have to do better than that," she commented, plopping down beside him, legs crossed.

The young boy looked up, startled.

"Huh?"

Diana shook her head, a slim grin pulling at her lips, and that fiery hair dancing around her shoulders.

"Kid… No matter what I told your parents to get me into this job, you're not normal."

He was still confused, and so Diana continued.

"Have you ever heard people talk about someone as if they are strange? I'm a person like that."

Solf pursed his lips, studying Diana critically.

"You seem pretty normal to me. So… You're really a psycho or something?"

She laughed loudly, though with a fierce glint in her eyes.

"I prefer the title heretic. But I suppose psycho is applicable too. But remember, psycho, crazy, mad… These are all derogatory. The thing is, kid… There is nothing wrong with people like me, per say. Not at all. People just believe there is, because I don't adhere to their moral and social codes."

As Diana said this, she traced a strange circle with runes in the dirt around the dying mouse. Then, she pressed her fingertips to the edge of the array. It glowed briefly, and suddenly ribbons of red began to curl out of the mouse, forming a crystal tree.

Solf watched with a sick fascination, but gagged all the same. Blood, it was blood… And then Diana was rubbing her warm, comforting hand on his small back, and everything was backwards.

How could she be so kind and so cruel at the same time? How…?

Everything he'd ever been taught by his parents contradicted the sheer glee he could see on his new teacher's face at the art she had just created. People were supposed to worry about small animals, right? There was something wrong about her.

Diana could see the apprehension in his golden eyes and she shook her head. Still rubbing his back, she used her other hand to ruffle his soft black hair.

"Alright… That's all for today."

And she walked away, leaving Solf to sit there and think and think.

* * *

He did not resume his training with her. Well, at least, not in her presence. She left a pile of books in the meadow for him each morning or on the porch if the weather was bad. She had stopped renting a room, and had constructed a house of her own. Without alchemy, even, people said. Just with her two bare hands, all by herself, even when people offered their help.

This self-sufficiency just helped to endear her to the villagers. But none of them knew… Nobody _knew_! She wouldn't show anyone else that side of her. It was reserved for Solf alone, it seemed. So, he took it on himself to go back of his own volition.

He was eight by then, and he went into town and knocked on her door. She let him in kindly, and spoke softly and did not let the glint show. But he knew it was down there, deep down. And, spurred by his mother's continued insistence on moral propriety, thanks to her ancestor-worshiping Xing traditions, he decided to himself that he would try to make Miss Orion 'better'.

Diana saw through this quite clearly, and saved her honest amusement for when the boy had gone home to his parents. To see him going against his nature in such a profound way was both amusing and troubling.

"You can't 'save' me from this, kid... You can't even save yourself."

* * *

As he grew and grew, he learned and learned. Diana praised him in a way he had not experienced before. However, he really hadn't made any progress in trying to get her to change. Solf didn't know, then, the reason he kept coming back and learning from her. He tried to convince himself it was because he still wanted to help her, to fix her. But he was too observant for self-denial to be feasible. Somewhere along the way, his motives had changed.

Somewhere along the way, he had learned to think for himself, philosophically. He didn't want to 'fix' her… He liked her just the way she was. Diana was beautiful and just how she should be, he decided.

And then Diana knew that he was once again ready to learn.

* * *

"Miss Orion… Why is it that you act so differently when you teach me than you do when you talk to other people?" a twelve-year-old Solf asked curiously, tracing arrays over and over onto a sheet of notebook paper to perfect his form.

He was sitting in her library, surrounded by books and books, sitting at a chair not quite too large for him.

"Hm… Well, as I have told you before… You and I are different than other people. However, other people don't need to know that. Humans have an admittedly nasty habit of ostracizing people who are different than they are," she mused. "You see, Solf… It doesn't really matter what you are like on the inside. As long as you know you are heretical, you can perceive what the world sees as 'normal', and act in that way. Doing that will get you nearly everything you could ever desire, as a heretic."

He nodded and continued, and let these words sink in, finding somehow, though not so very surprisingly at this point, that they seemed so very right to him.

* * *

It was a day of firsts for him. Miss Orion had finally let him into the room she always kept locked. She didn't even lock her bedroom, but this particular room was always forbidden to him.

It was absolutely lovely. A pastel room, mostly bare, with a small couch on one side, and a glisteningly white grand piano on the other side. White curtains framed the single window in the room.

To be honest, Solf really had no interest in music. However, he had never had an opportunity to experience it either. And the perfectly pure instrument drew him in, in a way no object had ever done before.

Miss Orion instructed him to take a seat on the couch, and she sat down gracefully at the piano bench. Then, she lifted the lid from the keys, and began to play. Each note was crisp and perfect and struck a chord deep inside of him. When she finished and stood, he could see something in her eyes that he couldn't quite place.

"Ok, Solf… This is where things get serious. You've been studying under me for seven years now. Seven years… After today, it's your choice. Pay very close attention today, because if you choose to keep studying under me, we're going to have to leave this town, understand?"

Solf nodded slowly, and did not stand up from his seat on the couch.

"Here it is, possibly my last lecture..." Diana murmured. "Now, I know you haven't liked hearing this, but it will be essential to your growth. Because you are, without a doubt, a person like me. And if you don't know that, things will only end up badly for you."

Diana began to pace carelessly across the room, letting her fingers dance gently over the still-uncovered piano keys whenever she passed them.

"We are a special kind of people—gifted with the capability to view the world completely without attachments. The things we treasure most are symphonies."

She glanced over to check, and there it was, that same little clueless look she had seen from him so many times before. Only this time, his sharp eyes were ready, waiting for the answer, and it made her smile.

"That is to say, the things we treasure are intangible. Others treasure objects or people, things that can be taken from them, but not us. We can see the entirety of the world objectively."

Another scale as her hands trickled over the piano keys.

"That's not to say that the musical aspect of it is completely inaccessible. Because it's a very important analogy. Just listen, Solf… Listen to the world around you. Can you hear the beat? The ebb and flow in tempo, volume, pitch… But it only truly becomes a symphony if you can feel it in the core of your being; if it encompasses your whole existence."

Then the two of them returned to the library to finish the day's lesson. And as he worked, Solf thought quietly to himself. He replayed every instant he could ever recall, each sound he had ever heard. The thrum of the cicadas in the grass, the bustling music of the crowds in town on shopping day…

He recalled the music, but there was no symphony.

* * *

He agreed to travel with her. At thirteen, almost fourteen, it was more than his right. So he said goodbye to his parents, to their sleepy village. But it wasn't the goodbyes to people that made the day momentous. It would have otherwise been filed away simply as the day he had left.

But as a special treat to all of the villagers, and to Solf himself, Miss Orion had drawn two arrays in the yard around her house. She explained cheerfully to him that they were made to unbalance matter, and would he like to help her with this last transmutation in his hometown?

He did, of course. Anything she asked, because Miss Orion was an angel and a teacher and the most beautiful woman he had ever met, all in one. So they readied themselves, each placed a hand on each of the circles, overlapping; his right arm over her left.

And then the circles glowed, and suddenly the house seemed to shudder, before blasting sky high, pieces raining down like sparks from a firework, so small they could not possibly harm anyone.

It was a spectacle to behold, yes, but that wasn't it either.

Solf had found the symphony.

The way the explosion reverberated throughout his whole body, ringing and rolling again and again through his mind… It was sheer ecstasy, a feeling that completed his entire existence, and years and years later, he would thank his perfect memory for that very first feeling, that very first symphony to play over and over again.

It wasn't as elaborate as those that came later, as the ones in Ishval, for example, but it was the first one, and the only symphony he was able to share with _her_ in person. The only one they had truly created together.

* * *

At first, they only traveled, until at last they reached a large manor on the outskirts of South City. It was open, with many large glistening windows, and welcoming with a soft coat of white paint. Solf thought it was an absolute masterpiece.

"This is my home," Diana explained, pulling her charge by the hand into the huge building.

As soon as he was acquainted with it quite well, and knew where his own room was, Diana sat down in an airy sitting room area, filled with yet another white piano. As her hands danced over the keys, she began to speak.

"The first step to getting what you want, Solf, is status. Status and respect. It shouldn't be too hard to accomplish, as I myself am a member of high society. I'm going to teach you everything you need to know."

* * *

And indeed she did. Over the next two and a half years, Solf was given strict etiquette training, so that he would be able to fit in seamlessly with the high-class people who would get him the power and status he needed.

Of course, as all this was happening, he at last told Diana of his encounter with the symphony. She took it upon herself to instruct him in the matter of the art of explosions. She researched avidly on his behalf, and his respect and love for her deepened.

At last, it was finally time. Time to see if everything would pay off. And Solf was determined not to disappoint Diana.

* * *

Her long red hair was twirled elegantly and pinned up. She wore an ankle-length crimson dress that slid gently down her curves. He on the other hand, was dressed in the pearl-white suit she had gotten especially for him for this night. Solf had to admit, he enjoyed the feel of the suit, and the feather-light weight of the equally white fedora atop his head.

Thinking of the fedora made him think of his hair. It was long now, pulled back with a hair tie at the nape of his neck.

* * *

"Ah, this short hair is such a waste, Solf…"

It wasn't often that Diana complained, let alone that she whine. But it was kind of hard to focus on that with the soothing, motherly feel of her fingers running through his short hair.

"A… A waste?"

"Yes… You should wear it long. It's so soft and pretty-"

She cut off, noticing the angry, embarrassed blush crawling up his cheeks.

"… Handsome. You'd look handsome, with it long and pulled back. That's all. Just a suggestion."

She left the room quickly. It was actually, in hindsight, one of their more normal conversations. After going to look in the mirror for a few long minutes, he decided to let his hair grow out.

* * *

In his reverie, he had failed to notice a man walk up to them. Diana was chatting with him cheerfully, but Solf could tell she didn't particularly like the man. It was the sort of thing he had learned to pick up on after so many years with her.

"Ah, yes," Diana said, placing a hand on Solf's shoulder. "This is Solf Kimblee. He's my apprentice in the alchemical arts, and, I must say, a very bright and engaging young man."

The dark-haired teen, bowed, removing his hat and placing its brim against his chest.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

He shook hands with the man, smiling.

They spoke with many people, using this cheerily elegant façade, and by the end of the night, the glimmer in Diana's eyes told Solf he had done well. But there was one last thing…

Apprentice held out hand to teacher, and with a raised brow, Diana accepted. The two of them whirled across the floor of the ballroom.

Later that night, after they had finally reached home, Diana laughed.

"Color me impressed, Solf. You were magnificent. The perfect picture of a classic gentleman!"

The rest of the night was spent in piano music, small explosions, and the most compelling symphonies.

* * *

"This isn't enough."

Solf looked up at Diana, startled at the sudden declaration. She just shook her head, smirking wickedly.

"Don't give me that innocent face. This isn't enough for you. You need a wide open environment to really create your symphonies… Somewhere with much less restraint."

His amber eyes cornered away, though he had been thinking much the same thoughts for quite some time. He was twenty, a fully grown man, and he had to truly get on with his life. He needed a career. He needed his symphonies.

Diana shook her head, sharp hazel eyes glinting again, and slapped down a State Alchemist application form onto the kitchen table.

* * *

He got the tattoos a month before he applied to the State Alchemist Exam. Enough time to lose the pain of the procedure, and to practice using them. He was sitting up, just staring at the dark ink on his palms one night when he heard it.

A crash, a small one, downstairs. With a quiet, stealthy grace, he eased down the stairs. A stocky man was rifling through the drawers of the desk in Diana's study. Solf cleared his throat.

The man jumped, and ran into the next room: the sitting room that held Diana's white piano. Then the guy pulled out a pistol, but Solf had clapped and before the trigger could even be pulled…

It was a magnificent symphony.

Crimson flowers bloomed from Solf's hands. He heard a step from behind him, and with the fire of the symphony still in his golden eyes, he turned to see Diana standing there. She was watching his work, breathless, and his heart swelled.

Red splattered against the walls and the floor. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Even the piano was no longer pure…

But Diana just stood and smiled at him.

* * *

Diana was not allowed into the testing facility. It was a shame, but he knew she was waiting for him just outside. The written portion on the first day was simple, with his photographic memory to help him. The interview was just as simple to breeze through… Diana's training, from that very first moment they met, allowed him to become the perfect person, to form a normal, acceptable façade in front of his interviewers.

And last… The practical portion of the exams… Overseen by the Fuhrer President himself. A small demonstration of his powers, a snippet of a symphony, and the man was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. Solf had, of course, not had any worries that Bradley would reject him. His symphonies were perfect for the military.

And when he walked out of the building with his hands in his pockets, grinning lazily, there was Diana. Her fiery hair, so much like the flames of his works of art, was lit by the afternoon sun, and he was reminded of the moment they first met.

Diana was in her thirties, but she still seemed, to him, as radiant as she had always been. The one who had channeled his true potential, who had given him the symphonies he treasured so dearly, and a way to create them.

"You passed."

It wasn't a question.

Just for old times' sake, she ruffled his hair, loosening the grip of the hair tie, but he honestly didn't really mind. His thoughts were on the future, on the symphonies he would make.

But then she paused, and turned to face him.

A serious look.

"Solf… Promise me one thing…"

That phrase… The way it started was tender, and from any other person, it might have ended with a plea to keep safe—an impossible request for any military person. An idiotic sentiment. From anyone knowing what he was capable of… Maybe a plea to stay sane. A complete joke.

But Diana said none of that.

The fire and the euphoria that anyone who was not a heretic like them would call madness swelled in her gaze. As she turned to face him, her red hair danced and whirled with her, accenting the ferocious joy in her eyes.

"Write me a symphony."

And he did.


	2. Red Rain Falls

**A/N: I don't own FMA…Still. The ending of my last chapter felt incomplete, so I've taken the liberty of fleshing out the rest of the story. Begin!**

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* * *

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Red Rain Falls

* * *

"You're an idiot, Solf, you know that?"

She stated it simply, easily. It was the first time seeing Diana for a long time, and he was still high on the buzz of his latest masterpiece, and the warm feeling of the Philosopher's Stone in the pit of his stomach. The only emotion he could detect on her face was slight amusement. She didn't feel bad for him or lament his fate or even attempt to empathize as many teachers would do with a former student. As he studied her carefully, taking in each difference in her face, he noticed two or three strands of shimmering silver in her hair.

Diana smirked, and the slight flash in her hazel eyes told of an understanding. Diana knew how he felt; what it was to do anything, even submit to imprisonment, to protect the symphony.

Solf knew if anyone in the world could understand him in his completeness, it would be Diana. As she had said so long ago, they truly were alike. Diana did not judge based on fear, attachment, or fuzzy moralities. She simply watched and understood and took joy in his symphony as he did.

"It is war," she would say. "Many things are seen as justified in such scenarios that otherwise would not be. But what gives politicians and generals jurisdiction over when killing is acceptable? It either is, or is not, altogether, and each person must decide which way he believes. If you are not prepared to do what is required, don't put yourself in a position where you will be called to do so!"

Well, she wouldn't say such things to most people. But when he'd told her of the reluctance of his comrades in Ishval to do their jobs, she had responded that way. As usual, she was herself only with him. She knew, in truth, exactly what she wanted and how to act to get it. It was an art she had passed on to him.

* * *

"Pay attention, Solf," she said sternly when his charming smile began to slip.

Wearily, the ebon-haired youth nodded. Diana just sighed and laughed, placing a hand on her student's shoulder and whispered in his ear conspiratorially.

"Now, now, think of it this way… I want you to pay close attention to everything these pompous windbags," he almost laughed at her description, "say. The more you hear of philosophies you disagree with, the more you discover exactly what your own views are. It cements your beliefs in your mind. Ok?"

"Alright. I'll do my best," he replied.

"That's my student!" Diana laughed, and sashayed off to speak with another guest.

* * *

"You sure made a fool of yourself, didn't you, Solf… What was it all for, anyway?"

It was a rare occurrence that she question him. But she wasn't accusing. Still, as before, curious, amused. He could almost hear the curiosity, and the guards outside the cell leaning in to listen.

"You know what for," he laughed at her. "But you're right, there was something… Precious involved, or I wouldn't have had to go so far to protect my symphony."

She looked even more intense, but was composed enough to not lean in like an overeager child. Diana was a very dignified woman, after all. He knew that the best of anyone.

"It… It was…"

Even he, who was so cultured and eloquent after so much training in etiquette from Diana, could not find the words.

"Magnificent," Solf breathed at last. "It was absolutely incredible. It magnified my symphonies to… Impossible proportions. Simply wonderful…"

Diana's eyes lit up, and she grinned fully for the first time.

"I see."

* * *

"You know, Solf, I never got to hear it."

It was an offhanded comment, seemingly, on Diana's part. But her glance was irritated, expectant.

That very day, Solf requested a ream of paper. The prison security was reluctant to give him even a scrap, but he was able to convince them at last. The conditions were that he have only the pencil and paper, that his cuffs not be removed, and that ten guards be posted around the room to watch him closely.

It made him smirk. He wasn't going to pull anything. Sooner or later, the government would need him again, and he would get out. What would be the point in breaking out and tarnishing his good name? Well… Good enough. Not even the government would be able to smooth things over if he blew up the prison, after all, and Solf was content to reflect on his symphony and speak with Diana. It was idle but fulfilling.

In any case, at last the warden was assured that there would be no funny business by the former Red Lotus Alchemist, and he was given the utensils he required.

It took many days and many sheets of paper, but Solf was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world, and his perfect memory would let him rewind again and again to those clear and beautiful notes of utter destruction.

At last, it was ready.

The completed score was thick and heavy, but Diana received it with joy. She flipped through the pages for a few seconds and smiled.

"Thank you, Solf," she said sweetly.

* * *

Unacceptable. It was completely unacceptable! His symphony was _incomplete_! It wasn't finished!

Solf Kimblee was something of a perfectionist, and missing only one note—the death of that scarred Ishvalan—ripped a gaping hole in the genius of his symphony! Leaving such a disastrous score in Diana's hands was out of the question.

So, though he took his work seriously and though he was anxious to start his assignment, Solf requested that his homunculus driver stop at Diana's house in Central before anything else.

It was smaller than her home outside South City, but just as tastefully decorated—Diana was a very classy woman, after all.

Envy appeared to be quite miffed at the interruption of his plans, but to be honest, Solf didn't care. He had never once felt himself below these 'homunculi', these artificial humans, who saw themselves as super-advanced. Solf was Solf, and all that mattered to him was his symphony.

She answered quickly when he knocked, and though her eyes betrayed her shock at seeing him, she invited him inside with a calm air. He could see the sheet music for his symphony resting carefully atop her piano.

He quickly grabbed it and turned to leave.

"Solf…?"

"It's not finished, Diana."

She laughed.

"How unlike you. Well, bring it back once it's done, will you?"

She leaned in her doorway, amused, and waved him off as he stuffed the envelope into his suit jacket and entered the waiting car.

He didn't know it then, but it was the last he would ever see of her.

* * *

He was dead—quite dead. And it was an utter shame. She knew he had wanted to finish his symphony, but he became so incredibly _reckless_ in the process.

She laughed right in the face of the nondescript officer who expressed his condolences, and accepted the sheaf of music.

She actually hadn't opened it before Solf had come to take it back, hadn't even read the title. She pulled the music from the envelope reverently.

Crimson Symphony for Diana in D Major

There were five movements. Crimson Lotus, Lotus Blooming, and Ishval I, II, and III.

It still wasn't finished. That's what he had told her when he took it back. It still wasn't finished. The scarred Ishvalan man was still alive. But, then, it _was_ finished—the scarred man hadn't died, but the last death of the symphony had truly played out.

Solf's death.

Diana laughed, added a phrase. Set aside the accompaniment parts and turned to her spotless white piano.

Though there was no one there to play the orchestral accompaniment parts, they still danced in the air around her as she played, filling the room with the glorious noise of explosions and screams and fire. Solf's final legacy.

And Diana was right there with him, in Ishval.

She was singing to a symphony of blood.

And the blood sang back, bursting into bloom like the blossoms of a flower and dying in a rain of crimson petals.

A perfect symphony of destruction.

A fitting end for the heretic of devastation known as the Red Lotus.


End file.
